“Father, why don’t you have a thumb
on your right hand?” Out of curiosity
the little child asked one day.

“It was offered to my God, son. That’s why
I miss that finger, that’s all.”

“Offered to God?
What kind of God was he to ask for your thumb?
Surely, He must be a very cruel one. Didn’t you feel
anything as you gave it away, Father?”

“You shouldn’t speak like that, son. God, after all, is God.”

“True, father, true. God didn’t ask for your life
instead of your finger. I must thank Him.
Maybe, your God is rather a good God.”

How shall I tell this child that
I didn’t give just my thumb but the whole of me?
Even to this day I haven’t understood
how much I gave or how much I retained.